


The Gift of Hope

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: First Kiss, Flowers, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-27 01:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20752127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: James thinks it's going to be just another hopeless day until he starts finding little red flowers everywhere he goes.





	The Gift of Hope

It starts off small, with a flower on the floor outside his quarters.

He’s not sure how it got there — if someone put it there on purpose or just dropped it while going about their way — but it’s beautiful and he takes it anyway. James has never been one to care much for frivolity, but the flower is pretty and red and reminds him that sometimes, good things take time. So he brings it inside and fills a drinking glass with water and sets it on his nightstand so that he'll have something to look at before he falls asleep at night. Maybe it’ll help with the restlessness.

The next one he finds is in the cockpit of his aircraft. This time he knows it’s meant for him, because all of the MFEs are assigned, and anyone who would be able to access his plane without him would know it belongs to him. He’s puzzled, but it makes him smile to know that somebody thought about him today. He thinks back to the flower outside his door, and now it seems a bit more purposeful.

At lunch, he walks away from his table for a minute to grab a fork, which he had forgotten when he took his food, and comes back to yet another red flower on his lunch tray. He picks it up and examines it, perplexed. It’s not touching any of his food, so it remains in pristine condition. He gingerly sets it to the side, careful not to squish its delicate petals, and scans the room for a clue as to who his mystery gifter might be. The MFE pilots are taking staggered lunch breaks today to work on individual training, so it can’t have been any of them. He wonders who else might know that he’s been having a hard time lately, and then wonders if the sudden appearance of flowers has anything to do with that at all, or if it’s all just coincidence.

He scans the room a few times and finds nothing out of the ordinary — Veronica is with Lance, Allura, and the two other paladins whose names he can't recall at the moment. Keith is with Matt Holt. The Admiral and his crew take a different lunch. Everyone is chatting and eating as usual. The mystery remains a mystery.

After the day’s training, James decides to hit the gym. He likes to run laps on the track first, then use the free weights, then follows all of that up with some time at the heavy bag, if he feels like it. Today, he feels like it. He’s been incredibly tense and frustrated for days, now. The end of the war had been an amazing, joyous, and immensely relieving event, but not as much for James as many of the rest of the Garrison members. His frustration grows daily, and today, he needs to take it out on something solid.

People filter in and out as he spends a couple of hours going through his routine. When he starts in on the bag, he’s careful to watch his form even as he channels his anger, grief, and frustration into pounding the stuffing out of it (metaphorically, of course. He’d never purposefully destroy Garrison property). He’s so zoned in that he doesn’t notice Keith at the bag next to him for several minutes until Keith lets out a particularly loud grunt, and James looks over just in time to see him come out of a roundhouse kick. He looks redder than usual, and his scowl is set hard on his face.

James pants as he catches his breath and watches Keith do the same. “Tough day?” he asks.

Keith shrugs, not making eye contact. “It’s alright, I guess.”

James takes that as his cue to continue, not wanting to draw out a conversation in which Keith has no interest, nor get caught staring at the way the sweat trickles down the side of his face and the contours of his long, pretty neck. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and goes back to attacking the bag.

Something in his face must show, because sometime soon after, he’s stopped again as Keith appears on the other side of his bag, brows pinched together in a rare expression of concern that James rarely sees directed at anyone other than Shiro.

“You okay?” Keith asks.

James nods and grunts in response, but hits the bag with a little less force so as to not accidentally hit Keith, who is standing too close to the other side.

“Your tape,” Keith says.

“What?” The sounds of fists on leather and jangling chains echo in the open space.

Keith steps around the bag and puts a hand on his shoulder. It jolts James into stopping. They’ve become friendly recently, but casual touch is still new for them. He turns to face Keith and drops his arms. When he’s really looking like this, he can see how much emotion Keith holds in his big, peculiar eyes.

“Your tape is coming loose,” Keith explains and gestures to James’ fists hanging at his sides. James nods and allows himself to be led to a bench at the gym’s periphery and sits while Keith disappears and comes back.

Keith sits next to him, closer than they normally would, and reaches for one hand. He’s tentative in his advance and doesn’t touch until James lifts his hand and places it in Keith’s. Keith is careful as he delicately unwraps the raggedy bindings on James’ knuckles, cleans a couple of small wounds that James hadn’t even noticed until now, and rewraps the tape tightly and precisely. It already feels loads better.

He’s not even sure how much longer he’ll stay here, but it feels nice to be cared for. It feels nice to have his hand in Keith’s, even if all Keith is doing is helping him wrap it. Something tense inside him uncoils a little, and he breathes a small sigh of relief.

“Better?”

James nods. “Thanks.”

Keith hums and takes his other hand, reaching across James to do so with a confidence he didn’t have a few minutes ago. It seems that once he’s gotten permission to touch, he’s not shy about it. James gets a brief whiff of his hair; it’s damp and sweaty and smells musky, but he can also catch the soft scent of lavender shampoo underneath. It’s nice. It’s comforting. And then Keith pulls back and gets to work on his other hand, and James shifts in his seat to face him slightly so that he doesn’t have to extend his arm so far. Keith shifts in kind. Now it feels weirdly intimate, and James feels his face warm at the idea that he and Keith are doing anything remotely _intimate_.

When Keith is finished wrapping his other hand, he runs his thumb across the knuckles in what seems to be an absentminded gesture before catching himself and yanking his hand away. James feels his heart rate spike at the touch. Something like hope begins to bloom in his chest, and he tries not to let it run away with him.

Keith clears his throat and stands. “You should be more careful,” he says, shifting awkwardly on his feet. “You’re a good pilot. Need your hands to do that.”

It’s such a Keith compliment that James can’t help but smile. It forces some of the tension out of his shoulders, and he thinks Keith can tell, because Keith barely quirks up his own (pretty) lips before shooting him a lazy two-fingered salute and turning to walk away.

As always, James is left looking after him, wondering if he’ll ever catch up or what it would take to get someone as odd and interesting and beautiful and remarkable as Keith.

He goes back to his bag for a few more minutes for no reason other than that Keith had taken the time to properly wrap him, and he doesn’t want Keith’s attention to go to waste. He doesn’t really need the release anymore — not today, anyway.

When he finishes his shower and opens his locker to deposit his toiletries, he finds five fresh red flowers that were not there a few minutes earlier. He doesn’t know how they got there, but he only knows one person who has the kind of speed and skill it takes to break into a person’s locker in a matter of minutes without a trace. His heart skips two beats. He gathers the flowers and brings them back to join the other three in the drinking glass on his bedside table.

He considers asking Nadia for a vase, but he’s not ready to deal with the questions that would come with it, so he adds a second glass next to the first and splits the flowers between the two. They’re very pretty, and when he looks at them, he smiles. It’s a nice feeling. He can’t remember the last time he smiled. He’s been losing hope lately, but he looks at the eight flowers on his nightstand and is reminded, like earlier, that good things take time. It comforts him as he settles down for the night to read a book and eventually drift off to sleep.

About an hour later, late enough that it can only be a personal call but not so late that it’s rude, he hears a small knock on his door. He opens it to find a piece of paper taped to the door frame. It says “roof” and nothing else.

With a twinge of excitement, he slips on a pair of civilian shoes and doesn’t bother to change into something better than his t-shirt and sweatpants. The book lies abandoned on the nightstand next to the two makeshift flower vases as the door whooshes shut behind him and he _doesn’t_ rush toward the door marked “Roof Access - Authorized Personnel Only.” He knows where it is because he knows every corner of the Garrison grounds, but he’s never gone through it. He’s never been one to break rules for the sake of breaking rules, but the past few years of growing up have taught him that sometimes, rules need to be broken. He has no trouble convincing himself that this is one of those times.

He opens the door that leads to the roof and immediately finds a red flower at his feet. His face splits into a grin the moment he sees it, and he picks it up to smell it. Beneath the strong floral scent, there’s a faint hint of sweetness that he doesn’t notice right away, but once he does, he smiles even broader. If it’s possible to find a flower endearing, he does.

A few feet ahead lies another flower, and another a few feet beyond that, until finally he reaches the roof’s edge where the last flower is lying next to a figure with his back turned, looking off into the dark desert landscape. James would know that unruly mop of hair anywhere, and the set of broad shoulders, and the small, trim waist that belies how much strength his body holds.

He makes his way toward the edge and picks up the last flower. Keith is tense where he sits, as is obvious in the set of his shoulders, but he’s clearly trying to appear nonchalant. James humors him and sits beside him, not quite close enough to touch shoulders, but close enough that they could touch hands if Keith didn’t have his balled in his lap. James puts his hands by his side anyway, the one on Keith’s side halfway between them.

“Can’t sleep?” James asks just to break the silence.

Keith shakes his head. “Too early. I never sleep this early.”

James hums. Not for the first time, he wonders how Keith spends his free time. “Nice night.”

“Yeah. I like it up here.”

“I’ve never been.”

Keith turns to look at him then for the first time since he opened the door. The smile that touches his lips is more of a smirk. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

_Of course I came_, James wants to say. _I’d go anywhere with you_. He doesn’t say it, though. Keith probably already knows, anyway.

Instead, he says, “Should’ve known you’d pick the only area on base restricted to you.”

Keith lets out a genuine laugh at that, one that lights up his whole face. “Griffin, have we met?”

James grins back at him, feeling his face flush again, just like it did earlier when it felt like they were having a moment. It’s nice. He doesn’t answer the question, just says, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Keith’s smile turns soft. It’s reflected in his eyes as they lock with James’. “Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a few moments, just watching each other. James tried to scoot his hand subtly closer to Keith, but Keith’s eyes dart down at the movement, and James freezes to wait for Keith’s reaction.

Slowly, as if he’s a cat warming up to a new human for the first time, Keith takes his time to unclench his fists and move his hands down by his sides. He’s no longer looking at James, and his hands are tucked close to his hips, but it’s progress.

“Thank you for the flowers,” James says quietly. “They really made my day.” He clears his throat. He’s not used to talking candidly about his feelings, but he thinks Keith deserves to hear it for all the trouble he’s gone through. “I, uh— I’ve been in kind of a bad place lately, but this helps.” He gestures vaguely to the flowers, hoping he’s conveying what he means to convey.

Keith turns to look at him again. James forces himself not to look down at where Keith’s hand is slowly creeping into the space between them for fear that acknowledging it will make Keith pull away.

“I’ve noticed,” Keith says. “Griffin— James,” he corrects. “I know it’s hard, not knowing where your family is. But we’ll find them. There are a lot of people still out there. We’re bringing more families back together every day. They’re out there. You can’t lose hope.”

His eyes are so painfully earnest, it makes the backs of James’ eyes burn with threatening tears. He knows that what Keith is saying is true, but it’s hard sometimes to remember it when another day or week passes without any leads. It helps to hear it from someone else, someone who genuinely cares and isn’t saying it just to placate, but because he believes it to be true.

“Thanks, Keith.” It comes out in a whisper and much more vulnerable than he intended. His first instinct is to feel exposed, but then he feels warmth cover his hand and can’t feel anything but grateful.

Keith is looking at him like he’s waiting for James to pull away or reject him, and James doesn’t understand that at all. Keith is incredible. He’s beautiful and smart and kind and a natural born leader. He saved the entire _universe_, for crying out loud. Sure, he can be a bit of a menace when someone tries to get in his way, he has no regard for rules or structure, and his temper is even quicker than his piloting; but now that he’s learned to see Keith for who he really is, with his heart three sizes too big and displayed proudly on his sleeve, James wouldn’t have him any other way.

He flips his hand over and catches Keith’s fingers before Keith can pull away. He looks surprised but not unhappy, so James takes it as a good sign and scoots his body closer. Keith doesn’t lean away or pull back at all. James shifts the slightest bit to angle himself toward Keith, and Keith mirrors the gesture.

James takes a moment to steel his nerves and run his fingers across Keith’s knuckles like Keith had done earlier in the gym. When James looks into his eyes again, Keith looks flushed and nervous, but his eyes give him away, and James knows he’s pleased.

Slowly, ever so slowly, so that Keith can stop him or pull away or push him off the roof if he so pleases, James begins to lean into his space. His gaze darts down to Keith’s lips and then back up again. He licks his lips and sees Keith do the same. His breathing has sped up now with the onslaught of nerves, but he perseveres. At first, he thinks that he’ll have to meet Keith all the way on his side, but after some slight hesitation, Keith starts to move forward to meet him in the middle.

In the moment before they touch, he feels Keith breathe a shaky breath onto his lips. It propels his heart into overdrive, and without anymore hesitation, he breaches the tiny gap and presses his lips to Keith’s. Keith lets out a small noise of surprise, but he presses back eagerly. They kiss a few times just like that, just small pecks as they get used to the feeling of each other, until James can’t hold himself back anymore. He untangles their fingers and wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, pulling him close, and reaches his other hand up to comb through Keith’s long, thick hair and keep him there.

Keith’s newly freed hand comes to rest on James’ knee, and as James deepens the kiss, he gets a thrill when he feels Keith squeeze. James caresses Keith’s cheekbone with the thumb of his hand threaded through Keith’s hair, and Keith hums softly into their kiss. When Keith takes it a step further and shyly swipes his tongue into James’ mouth, James think he must be dreaming. Kissing Keith is so much better than any time he’s imagined it before.

Eventually they both need to come up for air. James breaks the kiss first but holds him close by his waist and the hand in his soft hair.

“You’re still a pain in my ass, Kogane,” he says, breathless. “But I like you so much.”

Keith grins, and they’re still close enough that James can feel it against his lips. His stomach swoops at the sensation. He hopes he’ll get to feel Keith’s luminous smile again, hopefully more times than he can count. “I’m always gonna be a pain in your ass, Griffin,” Keith teases back.

James grins, too, and pecks him on the lips. “Promise?”

Keith kisses him one more time, deeply and with all the passion that James has always known him to have.

“Yeah, I promise.”


End file.
